High Stakes
by holytardisof221b
Summary: "NO! GO AWAY YOU'RE A FREAK! GO HOME!" John yelled. "John…" Sherlock sounded hurt; he could hear John sobbing quietly in the background. "I'm coming in." Sherlock pushed open the doors and stopped in shock. He saw John slumped against a wall, sitting in a puddle of crimson blood, and next to him was none other than James Moriarty. Please review
1. Chapter 1

John's hands shook as he picked up the phone. It felt like it weighed a ton, he struggled to pick it up. He was slipping into unconsciousness, but he had to do one thing first. John punched in Sherlock's number with his bloody fingers. He waited, hoping Sherlock would answer

"Hello?" Sherlock answered.

"Hi, it's me," John's voice was weak; it was scratchy and hard to understand. "could you come get me?"

"John? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"The p-pool, just hurry please."

Sherlock ran out the door and furiously called a taxi. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," John lied. "Hurry please."

Sherlock could hear John's breathing getting shallower. "John, stay on the line, I need to know you are ok." The detective shouted at the driver the address, "I'm on my way, hang on."

John breathed into the phone; it hurt to breathe, he just wanted to give up, "but Sherlock is coming, then he'll save me" thought John.

"John what is happening?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing," John breathed in a shaky breath, "Go home." He tried to sound stern, but it came out as desperate.

"What? No, I'm coming to get you."

"Sherlock, go home."

"To late I'm already here." The cab pulled up the curb, Sherlock threw some money at the driver and run up to the steps of the building.

"NO! GO AWAY YOU'RE A FREAK! GO HOME!" John yelled.

"John…" Sherlock sounded hurt; he could hear John sobbing quietly in the background. "I'm coming in." Sherlock pushed open the doors and stopped in shock.

* * *

He saw John slumped against a wall, sitting in a puddle of crimson blood, and next to him was none other than James Moriarty. Sherlock ran over to John.

"Stop right there!" shouted Moriarty, he held a knife to John's throat.

Sherlock stopped and held his hands up, "What did you do to him?" his voice trembled with rage.

Moriarty looked at the knife, then at john, then at Sherlock, "I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

"Put the knife away." Sherlock ordered.

"But John and I were having so much fun." Moriarty frowned; he pulled it away from John's neck and began to twirl it between his fingers.

"Let him go."

"Nah, I don't really want to." The criminal shrugged.

Sherlock looked over at John, he was barely breathing; the hole in his stomach was deep and messy. "John," Sherlock spoke "I'm sorry."

"Bit late for that." Moriarty began to walk toward Sherlock. "You really should get a leash for this one, he is always getting into so much trouble."

"Why?" Sherlock clenched his jaw, trying his best not to take the knife and stab Moriarty.

"I was bored! You know how that is, don't you?"

"I don't kill when I'm bored."

Moriarty leaned over and whispered in Sherlock's ear, "Well I do." He put the knife against Sherlock's chest and slid it down lightly.

"Don't touch me" said Sherlock.

Moriarty walked along the pool side. "Tell me Dr. Watson, when he said he needed a flat mate, did you expect to get kidnapped and stabbed?"

John couldn't talk at this point, blood was dripping out of his mouth; he had 5 minutes left at best.

"John is strong, he can handle this." Sherlock insisted.

"Do you want to know how this whole ordeal happened?" Moriarty smirked "Well, it starts with Johnny boy being a little slut."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock watched Moriarty's feet as he walked along the pool side.

"I have to admit, she was cute, but John just couldn't keep it in his pants." Moriarty smirked. "He was so desperate, it was humiliating to watch."

"Get to the point." Sherlock demanded.

"Well, I hired this girl to mesmerize John with her sexual attraction, and bring him home with her; thankfully John is up for just about anything, so that was very easy." Moriarty threw the knife up into the air, and then caught it.

"Just as John was about to get the ride of his life, I came in and just snatched him up. I brought him here because this is a very nostalgic place, don't you think? Our first date." Moriarty gave a wicked smile.

"Then I had a little fun with him; my favourite part was when I dug the knife into his gut." The villain walked closer to Sherlock. "You should have seen his face." Moriarty mimicked the face John made, and then laughed like a madman.

"What will happen if I push you into the pool right now?" Sherlock asked.

Moriarty snapped his fingers and red lasers appeared on Sherlock's chest. "Nothing really."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You can't just do it alone can you?"

"I like to have an audience." The devil responded.

"Let me sit with him."

"Aw, that's so sweet." Moriarty held his hands to his heart. "Heartless Sherlock falls for John 'not gay' Watson. It's a real proper love story. Sure, you can sit with him honey. Just keep things PG."

Sherlock ran to John's side, he pressed down on John's wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "You're going to be ok, don't worry, I'll get you out." Sherlock held back the tears, trying to sound strong.

"He's dead Sherlock, now is not the time for lies" taunted Moriarty.

"I would tell you to go to Hell, but I never want to see you again" Sherlock sneered.

Moriarty laughed "That's, that's, a good one I must admit." He paced along the pool side. "I'm getting bored again, maybe you two should die together; rather romantic I think."

"The only person who will be dying today is you."

Moriarty chuckled "I doubt that."

Sherlock put John's cold hand on his wound. He knelt down and whispered "Hold on." Sherlock rose, filled with rage and ran over to the villain; grabbing him by his shirt collar.

"Walk away or I will gut you." Sherlock threatened.

"I'm the one with the knife remember?" Jim held up the knife to Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock jerked him over to the pool side, nearly pushing him in.

"I can tell them to shoot whenever I like." Moriarty boasted.

"But you're not going to because that's boring." Sherlock said.

Jim laughed, "I'm quite hard to predict." He snapped his fingers.

A bullet grazed Sherlock's coat, leaving a hole. Moriarty pressed the knife harder against Sherlock's throat. "I have this strong urge to cut your neck open and leave you to bleed." Confessed Moriarty.

Sherlock tried to distance himself from the knife whilst still having a hold on Moriarty. The murder stepped closer the further Sherlock moved. Soon, their faces were pressed against together. Sherlock could feel the sweat from Moriarty's forehead. "Do it." Sherlock challenged. Moriarty gave him a toothy grin, "If you insist." When he said that, the detective could feel his warm breath on his face. Sherlock felt Moriarty press harder against his throat. It was getting hard to breath now, he couldn't feel any blood, but that might just be the adrenaline masking the pain. He closed his eyes, and tilted his head back.

"You know to be honest; I didn't think you'd give up this easy." Moriarty breathed into Sherlock's neck.

"I'm sorry John." Sherlock cried.

Moriarty began to cut, Sherlock felt the blood run down his neck and find its way into his shirt. Sherlock gave on last sigh, taking in the chlorine scented air. He slowly sank down to his knees, gripping onto Moriarty's sides for support. He looked up at the man with pleading eyes. "Please." Sherlock managed.

The criminal grinned, pressing the knife in deeper. Sherlock feel onto the floor; blood pouring from his esophagus. Moriarty sat on top off the nearly dead man, leaned down and whispered "Good night."

Sherlock looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but pleasure, he knew now was the time.

* * *

He shot his hands up and wrapped them around Moriarty's neck. His face was priceless, he was legitimately shocked. Moriarty clawed at Sherlock's hands, desperately trying to get him to release his grip. The snipers weren't shooting because they didn't have a clear shot, they either shot their employer and Sherlock or not at all.

Sherlock shook Moriarty's neck back and forth, pressing down on his Adam's apple, feeling the air trying to escape. Holmes looked into Moriarty's eyes. He saw what you wouldn't expect, he saw relief in them. Moriarty looked relieved to be dying and happy even. Had he really been that unstable? The evil man went limp, and fell onto Sherlock's chest. The detective's blood getting on his face. Sherlock panted as the man lay on him, he looked over to the snipers, he could no longer see them; they were gone. He pushed the dead body off of him. Trying to stand, but immediately falling back down, he was going to pass out soon. He crawled over to John and checked his pulse. He had one, "Thank you." Sherlock laughed. Moriarty had cut him deep, but not deep enough to kill him. He picked up John's phone and slowly dialed the emergency number.

"Hello, what is your emergency?"

Sherlock breathed into the phone, he couldn't speak.

"Sir?"

Sherlock moaned.

"We are tracking your location and help is on the way. Stay on the line."

Sherlock dropped the phone, and fell to the floor. His head spun, he could faintly hear the operator speaking, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. "John." He squeaked. Then felt nothing except darkness. He didn't think it was possible to feel darkness, but he did, it was all around, initially he was scared, but he fell deeper into the blackness. Eventually losing the ability to feel.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock threw his body up, panting and frantically looking around. "John?" he shouted. He ripped the IV other of his arm, and walked out of the room. "John?" he yelled as he searched through all of the rooms. He walked up to the front desk, "What room is John Watson in?" Sherlock spoke quickly and clearly.

"Sir, are you a patient?" the receptionist asked hesitantly. "Yes, I am, now John Watson," the detective snapped his fingers at her, "What room?"

The woman stood up, "I need a doctor!"

Sherlock waved his hands, "What room is John Watson in?!" he grabbed her shoulders shaking her. He looked over to see doctors and nurses running at him. Sherlock took off running, shouting "John!" whilst looking in the rooms. He dashed up the stairs, pushing people to the ground, desperate to find his friend. "John!" Sherlock turned the corner, and looked into a room, there was John Watson. The brunette froze, seeing the condition of his friend. "John…" he whispered. Shutting the door and locking it, he walked over to John. He had several tubes coming out of his mouth, blood was stained on his gown, IVs where poked into him, an artificial lung and heart. Sherlock slowly reached for his chart. "Failing heart, kidney, lungs, and liver and fractured ribs." Sherlock read aloud, his voice cracking from the tears, "Severe brain damage from lack of oxygen," Sherlock bite his lip and whispered, "Unresponsive to any sort of stimuli." He waited for a long time before reading what was inevitable, "Coma." Sherlock dropped the clipboard and stood over John, staring at his pale face. "I'm sorry." He knelt down and rested his head on John's chest, "I'm sorry!" he screamed. The door flung open, and the doctors grabbed Sherlock around his waist. He desperately tried to hold onto John, clawing at the bed shouting "No! Let me stay with him!" It hurt to scream he now realized, and his voice was scratchy and harsh. Sherlock turned around, grabbing the doctor holding him by the shoulders, "Please." He begged tears streaming down his face, "Just let me stay with him, move me in here with him, please." When the doctor picked Sherlock up, trying to get him to stand, Sherlock threw himself on the floor screaming and crying "Please! Please! Let me stay!" It was like a toddler's temper tantrum. "Security!" yelled the doctor. And three burly men came in and gave Sherlock a shot. "Did you just tranquilize me?" he responded, very offended. Sherlock lay on the ground and gave into the tiredness that consumed him.

The injured man woke up. Before he went to go find John again he looked around to make sure there was nobody around. The genius tried to sit up, only to find himself restrained. "Damn it." Sherlock cursed. "Nurse!" he yelled until one came.

"Is everything all right?" she said.

"Let me go. I'm fine see? Let me see my friend."

"I'm sorry I can't do that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, "Please."

The nurse walked over to him, trying to look sympathetic, but failing miserably. "What's your friend's name?" she asked.

"John Watson. Dr. John Hamish Watson. Room 38C."

The nurse looked annoyed now, "I'll go ask a doctor how he's doing, then come back and tell you." She faked a smile.

"Thank you." Sherlock sighed and lay back down, slamming his head against the pillow dramatically. He watched as the nurse left, then desperately picked at the restraints. "Come on." Sherlock wiggled them, trying to get the screws loose. He now realized that his feet were too restrained. "Fuck." He said with frustration. He flopped like a fish, hoping a doctor would walk by, thinking he was having a seizure, and release him. Well, one did walk by. "Mr. Holmes what are you doing?"

This initially shocked Sherlock, but he composed himself and said "Trying to get out of these bloody restraints." He shook more violently. "Why do I even have these on? I'm not suicidal! ... yet."

The doctor smiled and walked over to Sherlock, "You ran around the hospital in your gown and tried to harm one of our patients."

"Harm one of your…. THAT WAS MY FRIEND!" Sherlock yelled.

"You can't just get out of bed and run around Mr. Holmes!" The doctor gestured wildly, obviously frustrated.

Sherlock felt like deducing this guy up and down, but he was to distracted right now for that. "Let me see John."

"I can't do that." replied the doctor.

"Why not?" Sherlock's voice was lower now, trying to stay calm.

"We can't move him."

"I can be moved though can't I?"

"Yes, but…"

"But what? I'm a danger to him. I am the last person that would want to harm him. He is my best friend and the only person I have ever cared about. Now, let me see him."

"I-"

"Now."

The doctor gave a reluctant sigh and called over a nurse, he whispered something to her. She nodded and headed off in the opposite direction she originally intended on going.

"What did you tell her?" Sherlock asked.

The doctor smiled, "We're moving you to a different room."

Sherlock grinned, showing his teeth, which was a strange feeling, "Thank you."

"Now, just lie down and relax, the nurse will be back to move you rooms." The doctor walked away and Sherlock did just as he said to do.

After 20 minutes Sherlock started to worry. "Relax." He told himself, it is a busy hospital after all. "Wait…" he said aloud. He looked up, trying to find the name of the hospital on something, or a clock, or a calendar, anything. He couldn't find one. "Excuse me!" he shouted to a nurse, unfortunately it was the same one who told him she'd be back with news of John.

"Yes?" she said in a sarcastic tone.

"What hospital is this?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away.

"Hey! What hospital is this?"

She didn't return. Sherlock laid back down and closed his eyes.

* * *

When he woke up, it had clearly been over an hour. It was dark now, and the hospital was quiet. He looked down to see his restraints were gone. _If I get up, they might restrain me again…. Oh well. _Sherlock got up from his bed, he peeked out into the hall, there was no one out there. He walked out of his room, the receptionist was gone. He walked up the stairs without being spotted. He quietly pushed the door open to the ICU, knowing that's where John was. His room was the first door on the right. Sherlock turned the handle, making as little noise as possible. He snuck into the room, and saw John, laying there the same way he had been yesterday. Sherlock walked over to John and noticed something different about him. Something had changed; they moved a tube or something. Maybe they changed his gown. Was it his face? Had that changed? His position. Sherlock gasped and said out loud, "You moved." He leaned down and whispered in John's ear, "If you can hear me, I'm all right, I'm fine. But, like I said, it's going to be okay, I'll get you out." Sherlock could hear the door handle begin to jiggle, they wanted in. "I'll be back."

He turned around and walked over to the door. The detective opened the door with a smile and a nod of the head to the doctors. "He moved by the way." Sherlock calmly walked back to his room, feeling the doctor stare at the back of his head with hatred.

When he reached the room, the doctor closed the door behind them. "What the hell is wrong with you?" asked the doctor. Sherlock sat down on his bed, "What hospital is this?"

"Do you want to be locked up in the psychiatric ward? Because the nurses are telling me to put you there!"

"What's the date?"

"Mr. Holmes!"

"Why don't you just call me Sherlock? You always call me Mr. Holmes, why not just Sherlock?"

"I was trying to be polite."

"Well stop, it doesn't suit you. Now, I want answers."

"To what?"

"My questions. Hospital, date, and time." Sherlock demanded.

"You need to lay down Mr.….. Sherlock."

"Answer my questions."

"Don't make me tranquilize you again!"

"Again, with the tranquilizers? They are simple questions, just answer them!"

"I can't!" The doctor jammed a needle into Sherlock's arm.

"Why not?" said the detective sleepily.

"I just can't…."

Sherlock doze off again.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. Holmes," a female voice said in a sing song voice. "Mr. Holmes, we are going to move you."

Sherlock sat up, surprised he was able to, "Ah, yes, finally."

The nurse helped Sherlock out of the bed and held onto him as if he might fall. The detective didn't particularly like this, but he allowed it because he might actually fall. "Is John awake yet?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sorry, what? Who's John?"

"Uh, sorry, John Watson, room 38C. "

"I'm not sure, but if you want when we get you to your new room I will check." This nurse was much nicer than the others, she must be new.

Sherlock smiled back and her and nodded "Yes, thank you."

* * *

The nurse took Sherlock's hand and led him around to where his new room was. The hall he was going down was much quitter and far less crowded. All the doors were shut and it seemed completely empty. When they reached a room, the nurse opened the door quietly and slowly, as if trying not to scare someone.

"This is it." She smiled and walked in with Sherlock, now letting go of his arm.

This room was different from the other rooms Sherlock had seen. It had a real bed, and a huge open window that had a particularly large lock on it. The genius looked around and knew that something was wrong with this room, if not wrong, very different. Then it hit him. Nice nurse, nice room, quiet environment. "Am I in the psychiatric ward?"

The nurse tried to put her hand on Sherlock's shoulder, but he moved away.

"Why am I in here?" he persisted.

"You walked out of your room and into another patient's room." The nurse lowered her voice.

"It was my friend John's room, the one I was talking about earlier. It was him in that room, sorry for my concern!" Sherlock was wildly gesturing with his hands and shouting by now.

"Mr. Holmes, calm down."

"Don't call me Mr. Holmes!" he sighed and ran his hands through his hair, "It's just Sherlock."

The nurse reluctantly walked closer and whispered, "Sherlock, that wasn't John's room. I know who John is, he checked out a while ago."

Sherlock turned around and put his hands on the nurse's shoulders, "What do you mean that wasn't John's room, I saw him lying there, in a coma. I touched him! He was there!"

The nurse backed up, and pushed Sherlock off. "I don't know who you were seeing, but it wasn't John. Dr. Watson was dead on arrival. I'm- I'm sorry."

* * *

"No, no, no, no. I saw him! I touched him! I held his hand! I talked to him! He's not dead!" Sherlock kicked the chair closest to him.

"Sherlock, I don't want to have to call security."

The detective sat down on the bed and looked at his feet, "Why did nobody tell me this? Why won't you tell me the date and time?" He looked up, looking the nurse straight in the eye, "You won't even tell me what hospital I'm at."

The nurse just looked at the ground, not able to meet Sherlock's glare.

"I'm going to tell you as much as I'm allowed to ok?" The nurse looked at Sherlock waiting for a response.

"Please" he begged.

The nurse walked over and sat down next to the man. "Don't talk until I'm finished."

Sherlock nodded.

She sighed and began to speak, "You checked in about 3 months ago. You were in a coma. You lost a lot of blood from getting your throat sliced. When they brought you in, your two friends were already dead. We didn't think you would make it."

"One of them is not my friend."

"When you came, you went into cardiac arrest, and had seizures. We couldn't ID you for weeks. Then some man came in and told us you were Sherlock Holmes."

"What man?"

"I can't say." The nurse tapped Sherlock lightly on the nose, "Don't interrupt."

"Sorry." He apologized.

"Any way, you were in a vegetative state for about 2 months. Then your brain activity started picking up and you would talk in your sleep. You would always say "John" and "I'm sorry" It was heart breaking watching you. Then when you woke up the first time you tried to punch the doctors. You probably don't remember, you were heavily drugged. Then the second time you got up and went into a random patient's room and cried by their bedside. We were very concerned for you Mr.- Sherlock."

He looked up, trying to keep the nurse from seeing him cry. She put her arm around his back, "It's okay."

"No…" Sherlock's voice cracked, "John is dead and my life doesn't make sense."

The nurse stood up and walked over to the tray on the table and picked up a needle.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked.

"Something that will help make the pain go away." She grabbed his arm and flipped it over, "Be still." She injected the liquid into his veins.

"Another tranquilizer?" Sherlock sighed as he laid down, he knew the drill.

"Yeah, something like that." She gave a mysterious smile and began to push a cart out of the room.

"What?" Sherlock began to panic.

"Oh! And by the way," She walked slowly over to Sherlock. She bent down to his face, her lips grazing his ear and whispered "Moriarty says hi."

Sherlock gulped loudly as the nurse pushed the cart out of the room and shut the door. He tried to get up, only to find he was paralyzed. His head could move, but that was all, and then he slowly started to lose control over his heartbeat, his lungs, his eyes. He couldn't see now, he was blind. "Help!" he tried to call out, but his mouth wouldn't move so it was just a moan. "Calm down." He told himself. Sherlock could feel his heartbeat dwindling down to nothing; it was getting harder and harder to breathe. "I'm so, so sorry John." He felt the warmth of a tear roll down his cheek, as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.


End file.
